“Let’s go to The Lord in prayer…”
It’s a familiar phrase, yet the act of prayer often feels very unfamiliar.
We close our eyes and bow our heads.
We try to focus on the conversation at hand but the earlier conversations held with others crowds our mind.
Then, before we know it, the prayer is over.
We gather kids and Bibles, shoes and toys, and our hearts are still as heavy as the double doors we passed through to get back to our cars.
There must be a secret, right?
We hear of “prayer warriors.” Valiant men and women of prayer, people who would rather pray than spend their time doing anything else.
We cringe at the thought of having to sit, heads bowed and eyes closed. We wonder if maybe they’re just volunteering their time to prayer so they can really nap.
Until we hear them pray and we can feel the shift of…something. We sit in awe of such power and confidence as they converse with God. Prayers so personal we almost feel as though we are intruding on an intimate conversation.
Then we shrink back even worse.
“I can’t pray like that.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t want to complain.”
“I don’t want to bother God.”
We believe the lie that God doesn’t want to hear from us until we are perfect.
All the while God isn’t listening out for our perfect prayers; He’s waiting for our personal ones.
I guarantee if you ask any of the mighty men and women of prayer that you know, when did they begin praying so powerfully, they would likely answer:
“The same way a baby learns to talk. One word at a time.”
ABBA wants to hear the sweet babble of His child. He delights in you! And just as a baby grows and begins to form sentences that lead to conversation, God wants to carry on conversations with you!
Before you know it, you will hear His voice and crave His fellowship.
As a child hurries home to share the adventures and sorrows from school with his mother, so we do with our Father.
Just as a mother embraces her child after time apart and listens intently to their stories and requests, so does our Father do with us.
He’s waiting. He doesn’t anticipate perfection, only your presence.